Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Blind Rain: Poems

Blind Rain: Poems

Bond, Bruce

Paperback

General Poetry

Publisher Price: $20.95

ISBN10: 0807133086
ISBN13: 9780807133088
Publisher: LSU Press
Published: Mar 1 2008
Pages: 80
Weight: 0.27
Height: 0.24 Width: 5.72 Depth: 8.45
Language: English

In his newest collection, Blind Rain, Bruce Bond transforms the known and the familiar into something surreal and new. With spare, unadorned language, he complicates what it is to be both bound to the world and yet free within that world, the way in which the imagination deepens our engagements and yet offers some measure of distance at the same time.Bond opens with several elegies, many of which concern the last days and death of his father. Later poems explore the power of imaginative response as compensation for loss, focusing on poetry, madness, and music, which consoles paradoxically, since it is a form of loss itself. The work includes a long meditation, The Return, that hinges on the double sense of the word true as suggesting both the real and the loyal, and so participates, often through personal and cultural narrative, in a postmodern conversation about the power of returning as a way of grounding us ethically and emotionally to the world at hand. From WakeOne day now since my father last tried to speak, since the outer provinces of his body shutdown like small cities when the power goes, just the enormity of starlight to guide themon their cold journey into dawn. I am writingat the edge of the other half of life, the partwithout my father in it; I feel the strangesure pull of the earth I walk here, the polish of the grass, the distance between meand my students who look up and waitfor my first questions, knowing so littleof my life, just as I know so little of theirs, only a poem at a time to hold us togetherlike children before a fire in the woods.

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